Finding the New Tinkerbell
by LPDracobeatsall
Summary: A world where the magic that keeps Peter and the Lost boys young and makes them fly is story telling. Tinkerbell, their story teller, decides it's time for her to grow up and leaves the boys. Now after searching for a long time, Peter is almost 18 and a legal adult. Will his reluctant new story teller Daphne agree to stay before Peter gets old? OC's not the usual Peter
1. Getting Daphne

Chapter 1

I turn off the fan light in my room, the darkness consuming it quickly. The white shag carpet _swooshes_ as I pad over to my bed next to the window and slide between the blue cotton sheets. They are chilly without my body heat to warm them and I shiver a little in the November night.

I was exhausted. I worked a seven hour shift earlier at the bookstore and my eyes felt like sandpaper after flipping through so many pages.

My curly blond hair lay across the pillow and I began to drift off. My eyes were closing and every inch of my bed felt like the comfiest cloud in the sky.

_Crash!_

I bolted upright and stared at the human form lying in the broken shards of my window.

"Damn it!" the guy on my floor yelled. He was in what looked to be brown animal skin pants, the kind native Americans were always shown wearing in history books, and a modern dark green t-shirt. His red hair was ragged and hanging in his eyes, it looked as if he had cut it himself with the most uneven knife on the earth. From where he lay on the floor, he lifted his eyes to mine and I saw they were a robin's egg blue. He slowly raised himself onto his elbows, scraping himself on the glass with every movement. "Why don't people leave their windows open anymore?" he demanded. The he saw my screen caught on his- well I guess you could call them moccasins. "What is this?"

I found my voice. "What are you doing, throwing yourself through my window? Why are you in my room?"

He stood, grimacing, and blood dripped from several cuts on his arms and face to my white rug. I opened my mouth to scream, for my dad, for my mom, for anyone, but he glanced in my direction and covered my mouth with a bloody hand before I could let out a peep.

Warm blood trickled onto my cheek and down my neck onto my pillow. I stared at the growing stain, trying not to look at the guy in front of me and his gruesome appearance.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But I can't have anyone else waking up."

Yeah, like the sound of a window crashing hadn't gone unnoticed. I could already hear someone running and stopping by the garage door, the place where my brothers' baseball bats had been unceremoniously dropped earlier after their practice.

"Listen," He said. "My name's Peter and I need you to come with me."

I couldn't help myself, I snorted and he dropped his hand. "Peter? Like Peter Pan? Really, that's the story you're going with here? Aren't you a little old to be Peter Pan?"

Feet thundered up the stairs.

"Yes, I am." He said. "And I'm sorry for this."

He reached under my blankets before I could respond. One hand skimmed across my polar-fleece, pajama-pants covered thighs and the other across my tank-topped back and the next thing I knew he threw me out my window.

The night air froze the wind flying past my ears and the breath was stolen from my lungs. My room was only on the second floor but this drop, if landed wrong, would seriously injure me. I squeezed my eyes shut.

I landed in a nest of interlinked arms. Looking around at the male faces staring down at me, I realized I did have the air to scream. They unhooked their arms and I was dropped carelessly onto my front porch, the breath popping out of me and my scream abruptly cut off.

It had yet to snow in our little suburban town in Pennsylvania but the ground was cold enough that it seemed like it already had.

I tried standing on wobbly legs. Dropping out of a window was no joke after all. From my half kneeling position I saw Peter jump out after me, but he landed into a crouch without the help of his followers.

I stood with great difficultly but my success was cut short. Peter came at me from the side and his shoulder caught my waist. I flipped over his wide shoulder like a sack of potatoes, my head slapping against muscle with every running footstep.

The street blurred below me. Where were they running to? My pale arms dangled uselessly over my head; I didn't have the arm strength to lift them. Blood pooled to my brain, the thudding of their synched footsteps matching the beating of my heart. Every part of me was frozen. My breath fogged out and floated down to my hair dangling by the backs of Peter's legs.

"We're far enough." One of the guys told Peter. He slowed and came to a stop. Black spots swirled in my vision; I had been upside down too long. He bent at the waist and touched my feet to the ground, expecting me to stand on my own.

I couldn't. With the blood all in my head, I slumped down and landed on my hip. My cheek touched cool ground and I felt the world spinning.

"Is she dead?" someone slapped my face and my eyes opened in outrage. "Oh good."

Hands slid under my arms and I was dragged onto a bench. I couldn't focus on the faces. Behind them was a park, blue slides and teeter-totters and swing sets lined the wood chips. The sight of it abandoned at night caused chills to sweep up my arms. I didn't recognize it from any of the ones in my neighborhood; how far away were we?

"Daphne, that's your name right?" Peter asked, kneeling next to where I sat.

I supposed now would be the time to run away. Any logical person would just up-and bolt, try to find a police man or a phone. My head swam at the thought of even standing.

"Yes, that's my name." I answered quietly and shakily.

"I had wanted to explain to you back there," he pointed to his right, probably indicating the general direction of my house. "I just didn't get enough time. My name's Peter Pan and these are the lost-" he cut off with a strangled sound. He glanced at the men ranging from 13-17 around him, clearly they were not boys. "-men. The lost men."

I looked at each of their solemn faces, wondering if they truly believed they were all imaginary children.

"So what, no Tinkerbell?" I asked. Maybe I still had time to run.

Peter's head ducked and his hair brushed my pajama pants. "Well, you see, that's the problem. She quit."

"She quit." I repeated flatly.

"She was ready to grow up, so she went with me to search for a replacement. That's when we found Wendy." His voice took on a chilling note. "She was perfect, as good a story teller as Tink."

"But Peter loved her." One of the men cut in. Peter shot him a look and then turned back to me.

"But I loved her, and so she had to go."

"Tink had already left by then though, so we were screwed." Another man cut in. Peter stood and faced them.

"Would you all just let me tell the story?" They nodded. Satisfied, Peter resumed his place next to me.

"Tink had left, leaving us with nothing but two recorded stories in case something went wrong. You see, storytelling is a magic all its own. It opens the imagination, opens the possibilities." He turned away. "It's what makes us fly and stay young."

Everything turned silent. Frozen breathes counted the minutes.

"But you're not young." I had to point out.

"Two stories." He reminded me, indicating on his long fingers. "One to help us fly here and one to help us fly back."

He stopped. Eyes pleading, he grabbed my face between his palms and forced me to look at him. "I'm almost eighteen Daphne. An adult. We need a story teller **now**. We need you. I've been living with them down here for five years, searching for someone like you. Someone with magic."

"Your story's been around a lot longer than five years Peter." I challenged, hoping to catch him in a lie. This was all just a lie, a crazy act made by the drama department or some reality TV show, it had to be.

"The magic, once built up, can last for years. It was only when we started aging that we hurried to begin our search." He let go of my face. "Please Daphne, be our new story teller."

I shook my head. "No."

"It doesn't matter anyway."

I was hefted to my feet and held in place while the sharp cord of rope bit my wrists and was tied off. Peter leaned in close, enough that I could see his heart pulsing fast in his neck.

"If you try to run you will be carried the rest of the way." He warned. One hand death-gripping my arm, he began to walk.

I thought of dragging my feet, running, kicking, biting, everything they taught in self-defense. But my muscles weren't responding. Without gloves, my fingers were prickling lumps of ice and my bare feet on the cold cement sidewalk weren't much better. My cheeks burned with the lack of warmth and I knew my nose was red by now. Peter's arms and face were bare and I could see each of his cuts, now surrounded by dried blood. Yet he looked warm. I could even feel the warmth radiating through him on the hand clenching my arm.

I tripped.

My feet were so numb I didn't even feel the slope upward until my toes smacked the uneven sidewalk square. I began to fall to my knees, Peter's grip ripping my arm upward at a sharp angle. Half in- half out of the fall I dangled, too drained to even try standing again.

"Now what's wrong?" complained one of the men. Peter dropped me and then knelt down. His fingers brushed my cheeks, my nose. I let it happen. He turned to my feet, his face unreadable.

"Ron, give her your shoes." He ordered.

"But-" came a voice from the back of the group.

"Who is the leader here?" Peter demanded, standing and facing them all head-on.

One of the younger men stepped forward. He looked barely thirteen. Head down, he slipped his feet out of his shoes and offered them to Peter.

I began to protest but Peter kicked me in the arm, cutting it off. Carefully, he knelt down and slipped the moccasins like his own onto my feet. Gripping my hand, he pulled me up and I immediately knew they were too big. He took a step and I moved to follow, my foot slipping right out of the soft leather.

One man laughed. We stopped, Peter noticing the discarded shoe. He sighed and I slipped my foot back in. I waited for him to move but he stood staring at my feet.

He reached down and gripped my waist between his two hands, his fingers almost meeting in the back, and lifted me. Both shoes stayed on the ground. He set me down.

"Anyone got small lady feet?" He asked. The guys laugh, shaking their heads, too embarrassed to fess up now even if they did.

I slide my feet back in, enjoying the slightest bit of warmth they afford. Peter sighs and sweeps my legs out from underneath me.

"You said I could walk." I protest. He shrugs.

"If you could walk I'd let you, it's no picnic carrying someone, you know."

I want to ask him to put me down, but then I realize. He's warm. Every part of him is burning with its own heat. I press my cheek to his chest and my cold forehead touches his collar bone.

Poked, prodded, and shook, I open my eyes.

I stare directly into the brown ones above me.

"Miss? Peter says I have to wake you. It's time to go."

It is only then that I notice I'm lying on the top of a hill. The stars stretch above me, clearer than I've ever seen them. And Ron, the young boy who woke me, isn't touching the ground.

He's floating above me, parallel to the ground, the wind swaying his lazy flight.

I shriek loud enough to make banshees proud and spring to my feet, almost smacking heads with him.

They're all flying in the sky above me. A dozen teenagers moving with the wind as easily as they walk on the ground. Stars sprinkle the backdrop, illuminating the dives and twists, while the night sky hides those higher up from view, causing surprise when the suddenly appear below.

It's real.

The spectacle is beautiful; my eyes can't be pulled away.

I hear someone crow and though it's beautiful and unearthly, my feet send me skidding backwards.

I have to leave.

I force my head downward, searching for the least steep side of the hill to descend.

Someone crows again, this time right above me, and I jump and slip. My heels scrape hard dirt, finding no purchase, and my body flips to the side, beginning to roll.

Hands grab the tops of my arms and suddenly I'm dangling at least fifteen feet above the ground.

"Cool isn't it?" Peter's voice comes from above. A tingling sensation starts in my legs and moves to my arms. The sound of wind rushes through my ears. I close my eyes. "Daphne?"

"I'm afraid of heights." I admit.

He laughs. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of." And then, as if my comment was never said, he tosses me away.

I searched for any place to break my fall, eyes streaming from shock as well as the crisp night air. A pair of arms encircled my waist a foot from the ground and dragged me back towards the sky.

Peter flew below, grinning up at my tears. "See, not that bad, right?"

"Put me down!" I sobbed.

His grin faded. "I can't, you have to come with us." He flew up higher than everyone else and the guy holding me twisted us to watch. "All right men, are you ready to go?"

Cheers and shouts erupted.

Peter came down towards me and I was passed into his arms. He leaned in close, lips brushing my ear and his cheek resting on my temple.

"If you're scared of heights, you'd better hold on tight." He whispered. Then he pulled back. "All right men, off to NeverLand!"

More shouts exploded out. I waited for anyone to move and then like a firework we were speeding straight upwards. I curled myself around Peter, holding on for dear life as we sped forward faster than my car on the expressway.

Through my closed eyes, I glimpsed red as though the sun was burning right in front of me. Soon, everything turned white. My eyes burned with the sudden intensity, a pain that made me want to scream at Peter to turn around. Finally it ended, but my eyes remained closed.

Peter moved to unhook my arms from around his neck and I scratched at his hands. He wouldn't drop me again if I could help it. A hand forced my head up.

"Daphne, open your eyes."

With my head still squashed against his chest, my legs wrapped around his waist, and my arms around his neck, I opened my eyes.

And I nearly let go.

I looked up at Peter.

He quirked his eyebrows and gave me a knowing smirk. "Daphne, welcome to NeverLand."


	2. The Search

Chapter 2

**Earlier That Day**

It seemed like I would never find her.

The sun was just beginning to rise into the pink sky, casting a slightly brighter sheen than the moon on our sleeping arrangements for the night. It was just enough light that I could see the stretching and yawning forms of the guys as they got ready to begin another search. Matt catches my eye and approaches slowly, lowering himself until his back rests against the shed I sit against.

"Did you sleep at all?" He asks, his eyes filled with doubt. He's staring at the months' worth of bags housing under my eyes, shadowing their usual blue in blackness.

Like always, I voice my doubts. "What if we don't find her in time?"

Matt sighs like he's heard this a thousand times, which he has. "Do you honestly believe you won't?"

I smile. Peter Pan failing at something? It's unheard of, and I'm not about to change that.

I stand and walk toward the youngest of our group, Ron. He had become the human punching bag over the years, probably because the guys were so pissed that he was still so young. He's curled up on the ground and snoring away so give him a wake up kick and move to get the rest.

I stand at the head of the group when everyone has officially woken up. We have to leave soon or else the people who own the yard we slept in will call the cops. Eyes follow my every move, and the guys take in my every word. Power pumps in my veins like liquid energy.

"Nick, Brian, Mike, I want you to go west. Sam, Will, Zack, you guys go north. Ron, Quinn, Josh, Luke, you guys take the south. Me, Matt, and Drake will take the east. Meet back here at sundown." They were so used to the routine by now I didn't even bother reminding them where to go. The key was to search in places where we knew people were sharing stories and well as learning new ones. Book stores, Hair dressers, restaurants at breakfast and lunch so that we could catch those girls who were meeting with friends. All places where stories, if not gossip, is spread. Of course it used to be so much easier when I could just hop into any bedroom where a story was being read and steal the reader away.

Thoughts of Wendy pooled into my mind; her frizzy light brown hair, warm brown eyes, slightly uneven teeth, and freckles covering every area of bare skin. She hadn't stayed that way, a truth I knew from watching from the shadows to make sure she was alright, but my mind always remembered her as she was at twelve because that was when she was the most beautiful and my closest friend.

We take our search town by town and hunt in our directions until we hit the next town over. I wait until everyone has gone before I lead my group east. It's brisk outside, but after years in NeverLand without a fairy's magic to keep the weather warm I'm like a freakin' heater without my coat.

We start at a hairdresser's. The lady at the counter gives me and my walking shadows a weird look when I tell her I want to go back and check out the place. As I begin to get a sense that she will say no, Drake knocks over and spills a bottle of shampoo from a rack. She shrieks and rushes around the counter to go clean it up. While she yells at Drake, Matt and I slip around back and stand where we can see everyone.

Stories are slipping from lips thin, wide, and all colors of the rainbow.

I give it one minute.

Matt is still standing and so am I. We walk back to the front where Drake is finally finished cleaning and apologizing. Seeing us, he stands and we leave the girl crouched on the ground with soapy towels clasped in both hands.

We hit three places for breakfast, two more hairdressers, and one extremely old and extremely dusty bookstore. My feet stay on the ground in all of them and other than the sight of a lady secretly feeding a dog pancakes under a table and one particularly unsatisfied customer who had their head shaved, it seems today is just another waste of time.

It pisses me off that another day of walking is in my future. I never realized how much I despised walking until I could no longer fly.

Matt's eyes are glued to a group of girls giggling as they walk in front of us. One, hair burned into a straight line and so much makeup on that if it hardened and was pulled off it would be an accurate mask of her face, kept glancing back at us before each whisper and giggle. They turn into a shop and though we should keep moving, Matt comes to a stand-still.

"Hey umm, Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we should umm, check this place out? You know, I just get a really good feeling about the people in here."

"I'm sure you do."

He gives me a look. Drake nudges my arm and points at the sign over-head.

It's a bookstore.

"Alright Matt, we'll test out this 'feeling' of yours."

It's loud inside, unlike any other bookstore I've ever been too. Not due to music or children running and screaming, the noise is a slight background hum that comes from everyone whispering at once. The ceilings are high and painted a dark green that reminds me of the forests in NeverLand. Shelves rise from floor to ceiling, standing anywhere there is room and facing all directions. From the scruffy look of the books to the lack of any organization to the shelving, I assume it's a second hand bookstore.

The guys leave my side and I begin to scope out the place.

A woman sits reading to her daughter in a corner I can recognize as a kid section (if the bunny painted walls are any indication). She gives a voice to every character and the sound makes my feet tingle in anticipation. I'm going to fly. She continues reading while I watch, hidden, my arms unconsciously outstretched, and then she trips over her words. My arms slap my sides. You just blew it, lady.

Another woman sits in the middle of an aisle, her back resting on the shelves. A coffee in one hand and a book in the other, she mumbles as she reads and I strain to hear. It's nonsense, not from the book at all but a conversation going on within her. I back away slowly; crazy people freak me out.

I scan the rows, but they are either empty or filled with people browsing. Another bust.

I spot the guys peeking around the side of a shelf, Drake kneeling and Matt standing over him. They must have spotted those girls.

"Come on guys, it's time to go."

Drake turns around and holds a finger to his lips while glaring, the universal sign for shut up. Matt grips my arm and switches places with me.

"Focus on the blond." He directs.

I raise my eyebrows but follow his lead and look around the corner. Two girls stand in front of a table piled with books, facing us. One is a brunette and the other a blond and they both wear the black t-shirts that indicate they are staff.

"Eww, look at this one." The brunette says, displaying a page of one of the books to the blond. The blond crinkles her nose and draws her eyebrows together.

"Who sticks their gum inside of a book?" She asks, her voice crisp and not as annoyingly high pitched as her friend's.

"I don't know, but if it's going into the bad stack anyway…" her friend pulls her own gum out of her mouth and sticks it the page. Then she places it in the stack to her right. The bell rings as a middle aged, balding man enters the store.

"Your turn," says the blond without looking up.

The brunette surveys the man for a couple of seconds. Then she turns back to the books but doesn't start working again.

"_He was sitting at home watching his favorite infomercial, the one about the retracting ladder that can fit in your pocket, when his ex-wife called from her beautiful new house in Florida._

"_Reggie?" she slurred, even though it was only four in the afternoon. "I just want you to know that I probably would have loved you if you had kept your hair."_

_He realized that hair was all it took to get his lady back and he raced to his car. But where to go?_

_He chose __**Mass Books, **__the local used bookstore. Now all he had to do was find a book on hair growth._" The brunette stopped and the two girls laughed together. A guy in a staff shirt came over shaking his head.

"Just terrible," he commented.

The girl brought a hand to her chest in mock offence. "And just what, Ethan, did you not like about my story?"

"Watching infomercials? And why would he just start blaming the divorce on his baldness now?"

"Maybe he wasn't aware it was a turn-off."

The blond girl snorted. "Oh, I think anyone would know it was a turn off. He's all patchy."

Ethan gave her a high-five. "Thanks Daphne. See Janie, **some** people understand what I'm talking about."

Janie rolled her eyes but grinned anyway.

"Oh, and I almost forgot," Ethan said. "We've kind of been using a copy of _Twilight_ as a hockey puck in the break room, and I blamed its current state on you when Brad asked."

"What!" Janie exploded, but Ethan was already walking away. "Its official, Daphne, I'm going to kill him."

I turn away from the conversation to raise my eyebrows at Matt. "What's so special about her?"

The door dings.

He groans and shakes his head. "Turn back around before you miss it!"

Now Daphne is surveying the newest customer, a short lady with her hair in a messy bun wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a line indenting the fabric above her waist.

"All right, show me up again Daphne." Janie says.

Daphne gives a modest grin and then begins. "_Catherine was at home, cleaning house. The smell of Clorox calming the nerves frayed from her recent phone call. If only she could clean up her act as easily as she could a bathroom._

_Her mother-in-law dropped the bomb only an hour ago about how her son, Catherine's husband, had invited his whole family over for dinner the following night, and wasn't that such a nice surprise? What are you going to cook, dear?_

_What __**was**__ she going to cook? Never before had food been so important._

_She stopped cleaning and threw on an apron, tying it tight. Then she removed it._

_Lobster? Chicken? A casserole? Maybe some exotic meal with fruit incorporated?_

_She had no idea how to cook anything as grand as that. Jumping in her car, she turned down streets not seeing where she was going. When the __**Mass Books**__ sign came into view she threw her car into a parking spot and came to buy some cookbooks."_

Daphne stops and starts another conversation with Janie, but I'm not listening.

Matt taps my shoulder but I'm still staring into space, not willing myself to believe.

He's flying.

No higher than the first row of books, but still he's flying. So is Drake, his feet hover even with my knees.

The final test, I dare a glance at my feet.

The faded carpet is at least a foot away.

"See?" Says Matt. "I told you I had a feeling."

I can't stop the grin that bursts from out of nowhere. "We found her."


	3. The First Battle

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! I'm already working on the next one though!**

Chapter 3

A land of ice.

It's beautiful in an abandoned sort of way; the surrounding water rock solid, trees just white puffs on the horizon, every inch of the world before me a sparkling bluish white.

We hover just below the clouds heavy with snow as the rest of the Lost Men arrive to their home.

Peter stretches an arm to his left and points down towards the water. "Do you see that ship?"

I crane my head and spot the brown wood and black sails. It is trapped between ice a few miles away from the island, snow dusting the tall masts.

"Is that-" I start but can't finish.

"That's Captain Hook's ship."

I had never thought of Captain Hook as menacing when I was a child. He was just an unintelligent adult who wanted to get revenge on Peter Pan. Slowly though, the true fact of his existence sank into my head. This man was murderous. Hadn't he tried to kill Wendy? Who knows what would happen to me if I was discovered. Add to that the fact that I was now in the company of his greatest enemy and my chances weren't looking too good.

"But he's trapped now, right? Because of the ice?" I look up at Peter.

He raises an eyebrow and grins a little. "He's always trapped, Daphne."

"What do you mean?"

"He and his crew can't leave the ship without their magic hook, and they only have one of those so only one person can ever leave at a time. They're an easy win."

"But then how-" I stop. I was going to ask how he got so many on land to capture Wendy, but then I realize that the movie probably got all the facts wrong. After all, it was only based off of the old stories. I find a new ending to my sentence. "-how does he fight you?"

"We fight on his ship." Peter stops and surveys the ship from our overhead view. He speaks slowly, almost to himself. "There's something he wants that he can't have. I won't let him have it. But every now and then he steals it or one of us for information and I have to fly over and get them."

"Hey Peter!" One of the guys shouts from our right. "Do you think the camp's still there?"

"Well if Peter would start moving maybe we'd know!" A guy shouts from our left.

"If you want to fly down into a possible trap, Matt, be my guest." Peter shouts back.

The guy, Matt, runs a hand through his short, white blond hair and smirks. He sweeps his arm into an over dramatic bow. "It would be my honor, asshole."

Between one blink and the next he sails downward and skims the tree tops, revealing dull brown branches in his wake. Ron lazily swoops in front of us and nervously eyes Peter.

"So…can we go too?" His eyes flick down, then up, then down again. He scratches his arm nervously.

Peter flies us above him, stone faced and serious. "Men, I want you all to come down with me. If any of you follow Matt, you'll be finding your ass in the chains come tonight, do you understand?"

Several of them nod, no one verbally answers. Peter's arm tightens around my waist.

"Hold on," he says without looking at me. Like a roller coaster at the top of the tracks we slowly tilt until we are at the right angle, and then with nothing but a shout we are colliding with the wind. I close my eyes in hopes of making the tingle in my stomach go away. Peter begins to move me. Suddenly my back is against his chest and my eyes are open to the glimmering branches just within reach. We are moving slower than before, gliding along on a straight path. At a speed that I can finally handle.

A brisk wind sends my curls spiraling behind me. As though on a dare, I stretch my arms wide. My fingers play with the wind and like a child sticking their hand out of a car window, I'm mesmerized.

And then it's over.

Peter pulls up short and we drop swiftly through an area bare of branches. The others crash in around us. Peter sets me down and walks to the front of the group.

I look down at my dirty bare feet. Home. How had I forgotten for even a second that I need to go back? My parents are probably shouting at police in our front yard right now. The bright, inescapable lights flashing on my neighbors' houses. Curious and determined, our friends demanding what is happening and comforting my family when they hear the news.

The news. My name and picture, flashed for all to see, declaring me kidnapped. Search parties nowhere near this strange land.

"Alright, now we're going to go see if camp is still there. I want Drake, Brian, and Zack to stay here with Daphne. If we're about to walk into a trap, I don't want her anywhere near it."

A guy with brown hair cut extremely close to his scalp and intimidating muscles approaches me followed by a gangly guy my height at 5'2" sporting brown hair in a bowl cut. Or, at least, the best bowl cut one can do in the wild. The last one, wearing long black hair like a curtain, takes a few steps toward me and then turns back to Peter.

"Can someone else stay with her?" he asks and, I'll admit it, I feel snubbed.

Peter runs a hand across his non-existent beard and sighs. "Drake, I'm trusting you with something important here."

"Can someone else stay?" he presses.

"Fine. Josh you're on Daphne duty."

And I'm officially done. "No one needs to stay with me Peter. I don't need a babysitter."

Without even seeming to have heard me, Peter approaches the big guy next to me. He begins unwinding something from around his waist, and as it grows larger I realize it's rope. He hands the balled up result to the man.

"If she tries to fight my orders tie her to a tree, or you, or whatever works. Do not let her out of your sight." He begins to leave and then turns back again. "And if she uses magic, you know what to do."

"Like Tink?"

"Just like Tink." Peter agrees.

A chill rolls down my spine. Who ever heard of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys attacking Tinkerbell?

The men follow Peter and eventually the four of us are left.

And they're all staring at me.

I rub my arm and try to avoid their gaze. I try to think of something to say.

"So who is who?" I ask. As if my question proved me to be non-threatening the gangly guy leans up against a tree and the newest guy, pretty faced with thick, spiky, dirty blond hair, takes a seat on the ground. Only the intimidating one stays standing.

"I'm Zack," the gangly one says. He points to the guy sitting. "That's Josh and-"

"-and I'm Brian." The big guy finishes.

"Brian has a twin named Mike." Zack adds.

"Do you look alike?" I ask.

Zack looks at Brian. When he doesn't answer my question Zack smiles apologetically toward me. "They are like exact copies, I still can never tell the difference."

"Wendy was a lot less boring." Brian remarks.

"What?"

"I said Wendy was more interesting than you."

My ears burn. "Well I'm sorry I can't be as entertaining as Wendy at three in the morning after being kidnapped!"

"It's actually closer to four." Zack says.

"Thank you for that valuable information!" I snap. "I'm not here to entertain you! I don't even want to be here!"

"Actually you are here to entertain us. You're here to tell us stories." Zack supplies.

"No, I'm here because your idiot leader Peter Pan **thinks** I'm going to tell you stories. But that's not going to happen."

A single male shout echoes through the forest from the direction the guys went.

Brian sighs. "I'm getting really tired of saving Matt's ass."

"That was Matt?" I ask.

"Of course it was Matt."

I sigh and sit down. The branches of the trees kept the snow from reaching the ground so it was mostly dry if not hard and cold.

"So was it a trap then?"

"Of course it was a trap." Both Brian and Zack say at the same time with equal amounts of annoyance. They both stand staring in that direction, ignoring me.

I turn to Josh.

"So, what, no insults for me?"

He rolls his gray eyes at me. Then he smiles.

I find myself smiling back, just a small lift at the corners of my mouth.

"Did you like Wendy too?"

He seems to register my question, his eyes focusing downward while he thinks. Then he shakes his head "no".

"Why n-" I begin but then Peter and the Lost Men are crashing back toward us through the trees.

"They got Matt." Peter confirms with obvious annoyance.

"They?" I ask. "I thought only one person could leave the ship at a time."

Peter focuses on my seated form. "They had the help of the tree nymphs."

Brian groans. "When will they ever let it go? You hollow out one tree and suddenly they hold a grudge against you for life!"

"So when do we leave?" Zack asks.

Peter's still watching me. "As soon as we can. Everyone's coming, including Daphne."

Shouts of "No!", "Are you insane?", and "Just hide her!" erupt after the mention of my name. The only one whose mouth isn't moving is Josh, and that's because he's studying the trees.

"Shut up!" Peter shouts. "We can't afford to leave more than three of us here with her. If Hook has the tree nymphs working for him she's easy prey. We're better off getting her away from the trees and close to all of us."

"Why don't we leave her with the mermaids?" Someone behind Peter shouts. Josh's head whips toward the voice. His glare seems to stop any agreement.

"You know why we don't talk to the mermaids anymore." Peter answers without turning around.

A breeze rustles the branches above us.

"They know we're here." Drake says.

Peter approaches me and I notice something I had missed before. He and his men have swords. Weapons. They are prepared for a serious fight.

He pulls me up and wraps a hand around my waist. "I'm going to drop Daphne off first and then I want you all to follow my lead."

I wrap my arms around his neck and then we burst up through the branches. I shiver from fear, not cold. I am about to be in the middle of a battle. What if Captain Hook finds me? Would he try to kill me?

Peter gets us close enough to the ship where I can make out people. He scans the deck and the actual ship, searching for a bare spot for me to hide. Then, as fast as Matt had flown we fly. He doesn't waste a second, just drops me into the empty crow's nest and soars down to meet the captain.

"It's Peter Pan!" A man cries and then the clash of swords begins.

I huddle up on the floor of my hiding spot, careful to keeping my head from showing over the railing. I can see the sky and the Lost Men charging in from it, swords drawn.

Swears are being poured from every mouth below me as the clash of metal intensifies. My hands shake with every passing breeze that feels like a person climbing towards me.

Should I risk a peek?

I wonder if we're winning. Peter Pan never loses in the stories, but those seem so far from the truth now. The thin layer of snow under me has melted and my pajama bottoms are soaked. I twist my head, preparing to look down.

"Thought you could hide, did you?"

I turn back to facing forward in time to see a guy around my age climbing into my hiding spot. His sword is drawn and pointed at me.

I have no way of fighting. I break out in a quick sweat, my hands shaking and tingling with the intensity of my heartbeat.

And then the guy stops.

He puts away his sword.

"Are you ok?" He sits across from me and our knees touch in the cramped space. "I'm not going to hurt you. I thought you were one of Peter's men waiting to ambush us."

I can't speak. I take in his typical pirate look: white flowing shirt with ties in the front, black breeches, and black swashbuckling boots. He runs a hand through his short, thick black hair and then offers me that hand.

"I'm Rob."

The events of the day start to catch up to me. First I was captured by Peter Pan and taken to Neverland and now here I am talking to a pirate in the middle of a battle between Peter and Captain Hook.

I give an exasperated laugh and then shake his hand. "I'm Daphne."


End file.
